To All the Girls: Charla

    Indeed the curse of the alphabet came true. A , B, C. And while some say the third time is a charm, little did I know it’ll end up being a curse that I’ll have to outlive, or live with for the rest of my life; etched into my heart.

    Perhaps I’d been loving you with rose tinted glasses, and because of that I didn't see you coming, nor did I see you left.

    Watching you behave flirtatiously with other guys after your given me that story really made me doubt it. You once said you’d no time for me, yet you made time for game. No time for me, yet you made time for him. So… wasn’t I deserving any of your priorities afterall?

    How about the truth? Or at least a closure? My inquiries about another were brushed aside, a dismissive wave masking a heart that sought solace elsewhere. Saying he’s just a friend yet your heart perhaps decided otherwise.

    It was painful to watch you slip, as I tried waiting for you every night before succumbing to slumber. Before sleeping beside you still makes me feel lonely because you aren’t here. Before hugging you felt empty because it’s a reminder of you not loving me at all.

    Don’t I deserve to hear at least something from you? Or if you’re just “done” with me? How helpless do I feel as you started ghosting me from our relationship, when you stop replying, stop caring, and ultimately you stopped calling.

    Perhaps the last straw was my last confrontation; as I cried my heart out pleading to be by your side nevertheless, I’ll be okay with the shorter end of the stick as long as you’re holding the other side. You stared at me with your soulless face while I cried, and you just left me there. Isn’t this enough? Or was it me… to not go so low as to beg, because I did. Deep inside I realize it won’t work if we start begging for love, but if it’s you, I’ll willing. Wasn't this enough, or was I too naive to understand? I begged for love, sacrificing my dignity for the chance to feel yours.

    Time passes and having this catharsis is a reminder of how love always ends. How it’ll always fades. And your “love” was true at that now. I also realised how ruthless you are to not finish me off, to not tell me when there’s someone else, and it’s because you can’t love again. But only to have let me found out. And it’s perhaps; you can’t love me again.

    I could have seen the warning lights, but because they are the same color as my rose tinted glass, I could see you driving that knife through my chest, thinking that it was the other end of the stick that’s there all along.

    I tried to leave… I used your ruthlessness as a reminder to myself, but yet part of me want to hold onto you, wishing that you’ll come back. But it only hurts me more, when I see you hopping from one guy to another. Was it because you’re starting to get attention? Did you enjoy those? What were we all along? And coming onto my friend, asking him out for dates. I do feel alittle better if I didn't have to find out the way I did; if you could have just tell me that we didn't work, instead of ghosting me, telling me that you can't be with anyone ever again.

    I waited... until the sirens made my ear bled.

    I realised that people won’t love you the same, and they’ll always change. And loving you made me love myself less, as I’m willing to take a shorter end for you. And shorter… until nothing is left.

    So… I let you go. I set you free… and I gave myself a deadline to tell you the rest of my feelings, kneeling down, pleading you this time to finish me off; not of hatred or malicious, but of mercy. To send me off this final path to give my self love journey a final push to a full circle.

    I… myself am not deserving of love. Until I’d fully grasp the concept of loving myself. Until I’d fix myself, I shouldn’t give people my broken parts and expect them to fix me, to want me. I should always take words and love with a pinch of salt, for even the strongest flavour will falter with time. And never letting myself sinking this low any further… to cry, to beg, just for somebody to love me.

    Thank you for teaching to me to less trusting. To build walls not to love less but to not so easily give my love away for anyone could easily make it over them if it’s too low. And I'd learn not to beg, anymore...

    You Might Also Like

    Cuturi Gallery
    Cuturi Gallery
    An contemporary art gallery we found along Aliwal Street
    Peace Centre
    Peace Centre
    The last hurrah of Peace Centre
    My first Michelin Star Fine Dining Experience

    Leave a comment

    Please note, comments must be approved before they are published